


chronomancy

by erythea



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Pre-Canon, Sad, aglovale and herzeloyde in the background, connecting the dots with headcanon, lamorak-centric, no beta we die like anime moms, spoilers for Between Frost and Flame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26974351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erythea/pseuds/erythea
Summary: Mama is there, smiling at Percy as she tells him all the beautiful things he has to know. Lamorak wants to hear them too, so he keeps trying, but the magic won't do what he tells it to.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25





	chronomancy

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably OOC toward the end, especially when they finally decide to drop the Lamorak lore, but this thought wouldn't leave my head until I wrote it down and it's 2AM now.

Lamorak is eight and doesn't know any better. The eldest child is responsible and the youngest child is a responsibility, which means the middle child has none. He likes it that way. Freedom is better, he thinks, than rules and discipline. You can go wherever you want. You can run whenever you want.

Lamorak runs from another lesson on etiquette when he sees a tuft of red hair and small shoulders in the royal gardens. It's little Percy, rubbing his eyes until his hands are covered in tears.

"It's not fair." Percy sniffs when Lamorak gets him to budge. "I wanna take lessons with Brother Aggy too."

Percy looks up to Aggy. Lamorak thinks he'll grow up a bit like him. Just a bit, which is nice. If he can't pinch Percy's cheeks anymore, he won't know what to do.

Percy's cheeks are wet, so Lamorak conjures something to make him smile again. With one part magic and five parts sleight of hand, Lamorak pulls out a cluster of forget-me-nots from Percy's ear.

"Look, Percy! All your crying made these flowers grow. They wanted to cheer you up, see? So they grew up real fast just to see you!"

"I wish I could grow up real fast," Percy says as Lamorak begins to decorate his hair with blue flowers. "Then I could see Aggy."

Lamorak laughs and laughs. "Don't we all?"

Satisfied with his work, he pats his brother on the shoulders and settles on the spot next to him, leaning against his arms as he looks up at the sky and the overlooking castle. He's no heir to the throne, but he is Strawberry Man, who is arguably better. Strawberry Man is a hero of justice. He doesn't have to go to stupid lessons and be a stuffy king. More importantly, he figures Strawberry Man always knows the right thing to say.

"Um..." he begins, wiggling his feet next to Percy's. "You know, even if me and Aggy go far, far away, we'll always be your brothers, Percy. That won't happen for a while, though! Mama, Papa, Aggy and me — we'll be together for a long, looong time! I bet we'd all look pretty funny with grey hair."

Percy giggles. "Uh huh. You'd look the worst."

"Not as bad as you!"

Lamorak ruffles Percy's hair, and he thinks their laughter could last forever.

Lamorak is nine and his mother is dying. Aggy tells him to stop the bleeding. How does he do that? He never practiced that spell before. He didn't think he'd have to. But Percy is holding Mama's hand so tightly, Aggy is doing his best to protect them, and Mama, Mama never hurt anybody, so he has to try. He sends his magical energy to her wound the way he's seen healers do and concentrates on where the wood pierces her stomach. It's not pretty, but Mama is. She is there, smiling at Percy as she tells him all the beautiful things he has to know. He wants to hear them too, so he keeps trying, but the magic won't do what he tells it to. Why? Why? He looks up to tell Aggy, his face hot with tears, and learns that no one else will save them. What? Lamorak has to save them? He can't do that. He's no Strawberry Man. He's just a child, and children can't be heroes. But Mama, Mama said—

Mama said he was her hero.

When Mama takes her last breath, she takes a part of Lamorak with her.

Lamorak is fifteen and his smile doesn't reach his eyes. He's never going to rule Wales — that's Aglovale's job. He's stopped dreaming of a better world — that's Percy's. But he won't run. He's set his sights on Dalmore, staff in hand, and he's going to make damn sure he finds what he's looking for.

He'll grow up real fast to see her.

Lamorak watches the same tuft of red hair with broader shoulders travel with a red dragon, a girl in blue, and a captain he calls his vassal. He searches for the ideals Lamorak desperately wants to believe in.

He sees the Lord of Frost rule his people, steadfast and unwavering. He upholds the beliefs Lamorak vehemently wants to ignore.

Alone under his roof for the night, he runs his fingers over years of research, of blood, sweat, and dried up tears. He laughs. The sound is bitter on his tongue. They'll always be brothers, but have they already forgotten what shook them to their core? He knows far more than he ever had, yet the memory still haunts him. He feels it in dreams where his hands are small and his power even smaller.

Lamorak is twenty-nine. He is still a child.


End file.
